the song is "Someone To Watch Over Me" The Fosters Phoebe I fell in love with Phoebe when I saw one of the techs at the vet bottle-feeding her. She was about 2 1/2 weeks old, and had been taken care of at the vet since she was about 2 days old. When she was about 3 weeks old, I brought her home. She was devilishly cute, and very smart. She loved to cuddle, and she loved her bottle. We worked out a deal whereby she could sleep with me - she would curl up next to my side under the blanket and when she was hungry she'd wake me up and I'd feed her. Then I'd put her on the floor and she'd run over to the litterbox, do her business, and run back. By this time, I would have lain back down so I would put my hand on the floor palm up, she'd crawl into my hand and wrap her front paws around my wrist, and I'd pick her up and put her back in bed. For the next 2 weeks, we did this routine. One morning I woke up and noticed she was limping. By the time I got home from work, she wasn't using her left front leg at all. I took her to the vet and there was a concern about damage to the leg, so the vet wrapped it up and kept her overnight. The next day, they had to remove the wrapping because her foot was very swollen. After 2 days of no improvement, I took her over to the other clinic for X-rays. Both bones between her shoulder and elbow were broken, and the elbow was dislocated. I knew she hadn't been in any situation with me where she could have injured herself so badly. Upon further inspection of the X-ray, the vet decided there was a congenital malformation of the elbow. When her elbow dislocated, the bones snapped. She was too tiny to splint the leg, and we couldn't re-wrap it because of the edema, so she had to stay at the vet on cage rest. The vet tried to find some new casting material just on the market, but was unable to find it. After a week, she suggested we might want to do orthopedic surgery. Since that was definitely not the kind of cash I had at the ready, I insisted we test her for FeLV before I even considered going into debt for her. Much to my dismay, she tested positive, so she had to remain at the vet. I would go visit her every night on my way home, and on Saturdays, I'd pick her up and take her to the bar on the corner which is empty until mid-afternoon. They have a large carpeted pool room in the back, so I'd let her out of the cage to get a little exercise. Her leg was healing all on its own, and the cartilage at the elbow was forming a pseudo-joint. Before long, she wasn't even limping anymore. We re-tested her at 9 weeks, and she was still positive. At that point, the new receptionist agreed to adopt Phoebe as her first cat, so Phoebe (or Stinky, as everybody called her) went home with Lisa. At 12 weeks she was tested again - still positive. It just broke my heart that this sweet, beautiful baby would live under a death sentence. Lisa and the vet re-tested her at 16 weeks, and she tested negative! And again at 20 weeks, and then again at 6 months. But my perfectly named Phoebe was Stinky everafter. A FeLV positive result on a kitten is not necessarily a death sentence! I've experienced first-hand the miracle of a positive kitty converting to serum negative. Stinky is living proof! Disco and baby Triskit I met Disco at the vet's office. I had taken Mesh-Mesh in for her last kitten shot, and Doc asked me to come in back. There was this sweet baby there, and her little baby. Disco was a stray who was adopted by a nice young couple. Not having much in their budget, they took her to a local pet store to be vaccinated at one of their monthly low-cost vaccination clinics. The vet doing the vaccinations never examined Disco and didn't know she was pregnant. The babies were born prematurely on a Thursday. One was stillborn, and the other died Friday afternoon, so the owner had brought Disco and the remaining kitten to the vet. Little Triskit was so tiny - she was at least a week premature - and she was cold. I held her in my hands and blew warm breath in between my fingers to try to warm her up. Then I held Disco and talked to her and stroked her while trying to attach Triskit to the nipple. When Disco's mom Jessica came to check on them, there I was, holding Disco and the baby. Doc told Jessica I had a lot of experience with little ones, so I gave Jess all the advice I had to offer, and my phone number so they could call me anytime, day or night, if they needed assistance. I said "There's always hope they'll make it, but don't be disappointed if she doesn't - she's awfully tiny." To my surprise, she made it through the night, and another. On Sunday I got a call asking me to come over to show mom and dad how to bottle-feed Triskit, since Disco wasn't producing enough milk. Eventually, Disco did start producing enough milk to feed her baby, and she began to learn how to be a mom. Triskit's 8 weeks old now, and quite a little character, I hear. Little LuLu LuLu came into my life when one of my other rescuer friends in the neighborhood had a 3-week old kitten dumped on her. She and I both work (me from 9-5, her from 11-8), so we need assistance for daytime bottle feedings. Chris takes them into the vet before she goes to work, they feed them during the day, I pick them up on my way home and give them another meal, then Chris picks them back up from me around 8:30 pm. I take them home on Fridays and keep them until Sunday night so Chris gets a couple nights in a row of undisturbed sleep. LuLu was feisty, curious, and affectionate, and one smart little kitty. She knew exactly which buttons to push to get us to do what she wanted. She stubbornly refused any attempt on our part to wean her off the bottle, although she was chewing on the nipple heartily and seemed to be ready to graduate to eating out of a dish. She wouldn't even take her formula from a dish - she wanted to be held and bottle fed. Little stinker. At 7 1/2 weeks, she finally decided she'd try that interesting round stuff in the bowl. At first she only licked it, but then she got the idea and chowed down. She was ready to go to her new home, where they were anxiously awaiting her arrival. Her name is LiLi now, and I hear she's doing well. The next day, Moonshadow/Victor came into my life, but his story's on the Adoptees' Page.
One morning I woke up and noticed she was limping. By the time I got home from work, she wasn't using her left front leg at all. I took her to the vet and there was a concern about damage to the leg, so the vet wrapped it up and kept her overnight. The next day, they had to remove the wrapping because her foot was very swollen. After 2 days of no improvement, I took her over to the other clinic for X-rays. Both bones between her shoulder and elbow were broken, and the elbow was dislocated. I knew she hadn't been in any situation with me where she could have injured herself so badly. Upon further inspection of the X-ray, the vet decided there was a congenital malformation of the elbow. When her elbow dislocated, the bones snapped. She was too tiny to splint the leg, and we couldn't re-wrap it because of the edema, so she had to stay at the vet on cage rest. The vet tried to find some new casting material just on the market, but was unable to find it. After a week, she suggested we might want to do orthopedic surgery.
Since that was definitely not the kind of cash I had at the ready, I insisted we test her for FeLV before I even considered going into debt for her. Much to my dismay, she tested positive, so she had to remain at the vet. I would go visit her every night on my way home, and on Saturdays, I'd pick her up and take her to the bar on the corner which is empty until mid-afternoon. They have a large carpeted pool room in the back, so I'd let her out of the cage to get a little exercise. Her leg was healing all on its own, and the cartilage at the elbow was forming a pseudo-joint. Before long, she wasn't even limping anymore.
We re-tested her at 9 weeks, and she was still positive. At that point, the new receptionist agreed to adopt Phoebe as her first cat, so Phoebe (or Stinky, as everybody called her) went home with Lisa. At 12 weeks she was tested again - still positive. It just broke my heart that this sweet, beautiful baby would live under a death sentence. Lisa and the vet re-tested her at 16 weeks, and she tested negative! And again at 20 weeks, and then again at 6 months. But my perfectly named Phoebe was Stinky everafter.
A FeLV positive result on a kitten is not necessarily a death sentence! I've experienced first-hand the miracle of a positive kitty converting to serum negative. Stinky is living proof!
The babies were born prematurely on a Thursday. One was stillborn, and the other died Friday afternoon, so the owner had brought Disco and the remaining kitten to the vet. Little Triskit was so tiny - she was at least a week premature - and she was cold. I held her in my hands and blew warm breath in between my fingers to try to warm her up. Then I held Disco and talked to her and stroked her while trying to attach Triskit to the nipple. When Disco's mom Jessica came to check on them, there I was, holding Disco and the baby. Doc told Jessica I had a lot of experience with little ones, so I gave Jess all the advice I had to offer, and my phone number so they could call me anytime, day or night, if they needed assistance. I said "There's always hope they'll make it, but don't be disappointed if she doesn't - she's awfully tiny."
To my surprise, she made it through the night, and another. On Sunday I got a call asking me to come over to show mom and dad how to bottle-feed Triskit, since Disco wasn't producing enough milk. Eventually, Disco did start producing enough milk to feed her baby, and she began to learn how to be a mom. Triskit's 8 weeks old now, and quite a little character, I hear.
LuLu was feisty, curious, and affectionate, and one smart little kitty. She knew exactly which buttons to push to get us to do what she wanted. She stubbornly refused any attempt on our part to wean her off the bottle, although she was chewing on the nipple heartily and seemed to be ready to graduate to eating out of a dish. She wouldn't even take her formula from a dish - she wanted to be held and bottle fed. Little stinker. At 7 1/2 weeks, she finally decided she'd try that interesting round stuff in the bowl. At first she only licked it, but then she got the idea and chowed down. She was ready to go to her new home, where they were anxiously awaiting her arrival. Her name is LiLi now, and I hear she's doing well.
The next day, Moonshadow/Victor came into my life, but his story's on the Adoptees' Page.
